


Truth

by Colaris



Category: Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Courage, First Kiss, Love, M/M, drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:41:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29087010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colaris/pseuds/Colaris
Summary: Edward is helping a very drunk Jonathan home. //Scriddler
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: A crow finds a riddle in the dark





	Truth

This was definitely not the peaceful outcome of a large-scale birthday party that Edward Nygma had wished for that night. No, if the tinkerer looked at it soberly, it was basically the exact opposite, but what was he expecting great of these sort of events? The raven-haired man growled bitterly. Victor Fries had only turned fifty last week and had inadvertently invited the entire underground to his four walls while planning what was actually a 'small' celebration among very close friends. This was thanks in particular to a lively harlequin, who shouted the happy news out loud to the whole world - with unexpected consequences. Even the infamous Joker hadn't missed the chance to show up with his new partner Punchline, which of course completely destroyed the beautiful atmosphere of the evening in a few seconds after his arrival. After only five minutes of his presence, the tense situation between two certain women had finally escalated. From this point on, half of the guests had been feverishly busy pulling the angry women apart and preventing a massacre, while the ugly clown face was of course amused by it. So much for a harmonious, calm and civil party. The raven-haired man sighed softly and looked around the deserted street, growing nervous by every passing second, supporting the swaying body next to him in the direction of the city centre. His questionable company was constantly mumbling incomprehensible words, trying clumsily to hug the puzzler in pure helplessness. The tinkerer shook his head in disbelief. He still couldn't believe that he was actually heaving home a completely drunk Jonathan Crane. Since practically the entire range of the noteworthy scum of Gotham was represented at the party, a certain Mikołaj Brakowski also insisted on creating a little chaos among the guests. This ended with the fact that he had successfully started a very short drinking game with Scarecrow, which the Pole could of course win without any problems. After the eighth glass of vodka, the celebration was officially over for Jonathan for this evening. The older one had been able to hold up relatively well until he wanted to leave the game for a short time to go to the toilet. It appears that standing up caused a drastic increase of his alcohol level in his brain. Fortunately, Edward had been able to catch his long time friend and frequent accomplice quickly enough before he had an unpleasant encounter with the cold ground. Edward looked at the meager remains of a seasoned professor next to him and muttered almost pissed off: "Shit John. What did you even think? Fucking hell. Mikołaj's blood is practically all alcohol and you my friend drink maybe once a year, if at all. Did you actually think you could win against a well trained alcoholic?” The addressee choked slightly in response, then stumbled awkwardly over his own feet. The Riddler rolled his eyes in annoyance and tightened his grip on the brown-haired man. There was an uncomfortable silence between them, whereby the Master of Fear probably no longer noticed it properly. The lean man was abandoned by all good spirits and this also included the perception of his surroundings. Together they slowly stumbled through the darkest alleys, making their way into the remote areas of Gotham City.

Edward circled his shoulder briefly and hissed angrily: “Where the hell is Batman when you need him for once? I clearly have better things to do than play the towing service here.” Jonathan lifted his head, trying hard to look his company in the eye somehow. However, the older one failed so much that after a few seconds he squinted conspicuously and finally gave up. Scarecrow mumbled lost: “If the Bat dares to emerge, we'll kill him. It will be a piece of cake. You hold him tight and I'll give him one hit like this for example.” The Master of Fear reached out with his left hand at these words and tried to strike a powerful blow in the air, which in the end only led to the brown-haired man elegantly fell to the ground. The tinkerer was barely able to stand on his feet and stared speechlessly at his accomplice on the dirty asphalt. Jonathan grinned amused at his own failure and finally laughed indignantly into the dark night. Edward raised an eyebrow in doubt. He finally replied, almost sarcastically: “That could actually work because the Dark Knight can probably no longer defend himself properly with laughter when he sees you in this miserable state. Shall we call all of GCPD right away to have your drunken ass shipped straight to Arkham for the next few months? Just as a little marginal information: You are still being searched for the last action you did and you can't really allow yourself to be reckless right now.” The older man snorted softly, waved his hand with a smile and tried to sit up with difficulty. He carefully pulled himself up on the Riddler, swaying slightly from one side to the other. Jonathan took a deep breath, then slurred: "As long as they put me in a cell with you, I don't really care whether I'm in Arkham or not, Edward." The raven-haired frowned and dragged the Master of Fear a few steps further. He was really just babbling nonsense right now. Normally the puzzler would internally cheer such an adventure with the collected psychiatrist, but thanks to Jonathan he was now in a little mess himself. The tinkerer was also targeted by investigators two weeks ago due to a more or less successful break-in and there was probably no better opportunity to catch him than at this moment. It wasn't his plan to go to bed in the psychiatric ward for the next few weeks just because he had generously done his tipsy friend a favour. In Scarecrow's case, tipsy was an absolute understatement. The raven-haired groaned annoyed and replied grumbling: “Of course, John. Just the presence of me truly enhances every situation in your life, but I still don't feel like sitting in a musty cell again and watching the psychiatrists in their own madness. So do me a fucking favour and pull yourself together for at least the next ten minutes."

The brown-haired man blinked a few times, but then slowly nodded. Together they managed a few meters until the older one began to speak inappropriately loudly again: "Do you actually know how much I value you?" The Riddler couldn't help but laugh dryly. He clawed the Master of Fear's rancid turtle neck sweater and replied in mock surprise: “Oh, really John? I understand you, of course. Who, within the radius of my humble divinity, would not at some point become awestruck and finally accept that my personality represents an enrichment in everyday life. ""Exactly, " Scarecrow slurred unusually happily and continued mumbling, "I'm always happy when we work together or do something stupid. You know that's probably the only positive thing about my underground career. Without the whole shit with the Bat or the GCPD, I would never have met you and I would miss you as a close friend." The addressee almost choked on his own spit and stopped abruptly in the side street. Had he just heard right? The puzzler looked into the older man's icy blue eyes, searched for the hidden lie in his statement. He didn't find what he expected. The tinkerer chewed lightly on his lower lip and mumbled almost confused: “Would you really miss me? Has the alcohol completely clouded your mind now?” The Master of Fear swayed much more suddenly, took two steps back, uncertainly, until he leaned his back against the cold stone wall. He smiled happily, clung to the bricks with his hands and said softly: "I don't rule that out completely, of course, but there is always evidence of a bit of truth in the words of a tipsy man." Edward crossed his arms over his chest, studied the relaxed-looking face of his accomplice. He had never seen the former psychiatrist like this. He clucked his tongue and replied dryly: “You are not just a little tipsy, John. In my opinion you can calculate your current alcohol level based on your flag alone and that should mean something.” The brown-haired man started to laugh out loud at this statement. That seemed to be the night of his life. As much as the inventor loathed the questionable state of the Master of Fear, there was a part of him that gave Jonathan a little break from his heavy thoughts. The last few months had not been easy for the older man. The tinkerer couldn't help but smile a little himself. Scarecrow started to speak again, the voice a wild mixture of different pitches and clearly incorrect word stresses: “I think you have a point. Then I'm just drunk. I certainly don't want to argue with you tonight.” The Riddler rubbed his stubbly chin, lightly stroked his three-day beard. They were a good two blocks from the former psychiatrist's apartment. How should he convince his accomplice to come with him and not continue this senseless conversation here at the wall in the icy wind? Edward saw nothing more in this conversation than a meaningless string of confused thoughts from an otherwise extremely brilliant head.

Jonathan was one of the few villains he could really rely on one hundred percent and with whom a high level conversation was possible. They had a more than peculiar dynamic, which regularly caused a lot of speculation in the underground about how a collaboration between the two could even be possible. In one moment they literally wanted to turn each other's necks only to in the next moment forcefully pull the other off the road when a truck raced at full speed towards the person concerned. Edward rarely wished badly for the lean man, but would never publicly admit that fact. They treated each other in the presence of other villains like bitter rivals who never gave each other anything, but had to fall back on each other again and again in order to get ahead due to the small selection of capable brains in Gotham. Only Selina seemed to have known for a long time that reality was different. The inventor pushed his thoughts aside and replied unusually factual: “For once I don't want to argue with you today also. Come on, I'll take you home now. You look like you're falling asleep right here against the wall. A bed is surely more comfortable, isn't it?” With these words he stepped carefully towards the older man. Scarecrow suddenly stopped smiling and stared into the Riddler's eyes. Edward stopped moving and shuddered slightly from the unexpected intense eye contact. Jonathan suddenly seemed almost sober again. The thin man wrinkled his nose slightly and said calmly: "A bed would be fine with me, but only if you keep me company in this tonight." The raven-haired man's opals grew large, a light shade of red settled on his cheeks. He stuttered uncertainly: “Why on gods earth should I keep you company in your bed? Are you afraid of choking on your own vomit in your sleep or how should I understand that question?” The former psychiatrist slid down the wall a bit unexpectedly quickly when he tried to pull away from it. The Master of Fear shrugged his shoulder slightly and seemed to accept his fate of not be able to take a step alone in the next few hours. He focused again on the younger one in front of him and mumbled back: "No, that's really not my point, Edward. I was watching you closely at the party today and yes, I can deny it any way I want: I can't stop looking at you. You are just beautiful.” The inventor's mouth opened, but no words came out of his throat. He was speechless. Before Edward could say anything about it, the former psychiatrist continued: “And I'm not just saying that because I had a glass or two too many. Seriously, if I could muster up even a little courage towards you, I would finally tell you how I really feel about you.” The tinkerer felt his heart beating faster in his chest. So it wasn't just his imagination that something special had been developing between them for weeks.

The raven-haired man trembled slightly and whispered hoarsely: "And how do you feel for me now, John?" The older one grinned from both ears, slowly blushing in the cold air of the icy december. Scarecrow closed his eyes and said almost euphorically: “If I could actually muster up the courage at some point, I would tell you in detail that you are the fulfilment of my wildest dreams. Smart, unique, creative - and take a look at yourself in the mirror. You take the breath away from half of the citizen in Gotham when you walk down town. That is also the reason why I would probably never dare to take this step. Why should someone like you come to terms with a repulsive figure like me when you basically have the free choice of possible partners. Besides, I don't even know if you're interested in men at all and I'm not more likely to scare you off if I try hard for you." Edward almost dropped his jaw at this response. Was he drunk or hallucinated himself? The younger one bit his lower lip hard, looking again for the lie in the words of the Master of Fear. He spoke very hesitantly: "This is a very bad joke from you, isn't it?" To his amazement, Jonathan shook his head vigorously. The brown-haired groan softly and mumbled dejectedly: "I sometimes wish it was a joke. Anyway, you will find out all of this once I can show enough courage. I really hope that you won't turn away from me then." The Riddler was forgetting to breath for a second, his mind racing around wildly. He felt a lump in his throat and felt his mouth go dry. Words. Damn it, words. So many words were missing at once. His vocabulary wasn't big enough for such a situation. When Jonathan opened his eyes again, the voices in his head suddenly fell silent. The expression in the opals of the former psychiatrist made all doubts disappear. What remained was an insatiable desire for unknown closeness and security in a person who probably liked him in some certain way, if not to say loved him. Edward swallowed hard and closed the last gap between them with one more step, placing his hands next to each of the thin man's hips. Jonathan became as rigid as a pillar of salt, hardly dared to breathe. The body of the tinkerer pressed clearly against that of the brown-haired man. At that moment, the younger boy was no longer really bothered by the penetrating smell of alcohol from the Master of Fear mouth. The Riddler hesitated for a moment, but then put his lips gently on his partner's. Scarecrow winced in surprise. After a few seconds he returned the unexpected kiss and cupped the raven-haired man's neck with his hands, pulling him closer to him. What happened after the first kiss between them that night was hidden under the veil of a lively city that rarely revealed the fate of two people.


End file.
